


Fairy Tale

by sapphicscullyy



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicscullyy/pseuds/sapphicscullyy
Summary: Prompt: "I got you a present."
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720627
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not completely happy with this but I hope you like it!

Mulder paused outside the door, needing a moment to compose himself. He could see her lying on the bed, facing the window. At first, he thought she may be asleep, she looked so peaceful. But he saw her fingers moving, fiddling with the sheets. He took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said softly as he entered. She rolled over carefully, mindful of the wires and needles in her body, a smile on her face. 

“Hi.”

Only a few months ago would his knees go weak at her smile; his heart would stop beating as he struggled to remember how to breathe. But now, he could see all the pain she attempted to conceal swimming in her eyes, and it broke his heart more than a smile could possibly fix.

She shifted herself slightly further up the bed, the action a false display of strength, but she couldn’t hide her wince.

He was at her side at an instant, the things in his hands placed immediately on the table by the bed. 

“Scully,” he gently pushed her back down. “It’s okay.”

“Help me up.”

And his heart broke even further. She only ever asked for help when it was bad. When it was really bad. The unshed tears in her eyes confirmed that. He did what she asked, fluffing up the pillows behind her.

She couldn’t meet his eye. Instead, her gaze travelled over to the small table where he had hurriedly dumped his things.

“What’s that?” 

“I got you a present.” He smiled at her. “Iced tea and a chocolate bar.” 

He noticed a faint blush appear on her pale cheeks as she mouthed ‘iced tea’. She ducked her head as a smile tempted the corners of her lips. Words from years ago silently echoed around the room. 

_ “If there’s an iced tea in that bag, could be love.” _

“I stole them from one of the nurses’ desks.” They both knew he hadn’t, but it earned him a small chuckle from her. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking his hand in her own. There was no fumbling or awkwardness involved in the act; it was as if their hands were designed to fit perfectly together. Perhaps they were.

“How are you feeling?” A necessary pointless question that would always receive some variation of the same answer.

“I’m fine.”  _ Everything hurts. _

“Scully…”

“Tell me a story.”  _ Distract me from the pain. _

“Which one?”

“Any.”  _ Please. _

He began telling her the tale of the liver fluke man who lived in the sewer and she laughed. A bright sound that had no place in a room for those who are sick and dying. Her laughter turned into coughing and he winced, squeezing her hand the slightest bit tighter.

“Anything but that.”

So, he told her the story of them. The story of how they became an ‘us’, how Mulder and Scully became MulderandScully. He began their story with ‘once upon a time’, recounting their lives like it was a fairy tale. She interrupted him every time he said something that she didn’t agree with, which was the majority of his story. But gradually, she stopped and just listened to his voice. Her eyelids grew heavy and she eventually gave in to her tired body, closing her eyes and settling further into the pillows. His thumb drew circles on her hand, tracing paths of a soothing fire over her skin.

At one point she reached for the chocolate bar, and Mulder pretended to ignore how she gently placed it back on the side table after only taking two bites which could barely be considered as nibbles. And how she only got as far as picking up the iced tea before putting it back. 

He told her everything, most things that she knew, and some things that she didn’t. He reached the part when she was taken from him, and he told her how hard he found it to get up each morning knowing she wouldn’t be in the office that day. How the only thing that kept him going was the fragile hope that she would return to him. She didn’t know that.

She fell asleep just before he reached the horrors of Donnie Pfaster, lulled by his voice and the motion of his thumb working patterns into the delicate skin of her palm.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, one by one. 

“Please don’t leave me again,” he whispered to her, only brave enough to voice his fears once he is certain she was unable to hear. “I don’t know if I can survive this time, knowing you won’t be coming back.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, between her brows, then the tip of her nose. He hesitated for a moment before brushing her lips with his own. The vain hope present in his mind that his kiss could wake her from her slumber and save her from the pain of any illness or injury.

But he was no Prince Charming.

And this was no fairy tale.


End file.
